Liam woke up to the sound of his alarm blaring across the room. His body ached from the recovery, the remnants of his recent breakdown lingering in the form of tiredness that never quite left. But he ignored it. The exhaustion, the faint trembling of his hands, the weight on his chest—none of it mattered anymore. Today, he would force himself back into his old routine. He had no time for weakness, no time for feelings.
Sitting at his desk, Liam opened his textbook, his gaze mechanical as he scanned the words. His mind wandered, briefly, to the events of the last week. The outburst. The confessions. The way he'd felt emotions rising within him again, feelings that he hadn't wanted or needed. He couldn't go back to that. He couldn't afford to. And so, he shut it all down.
He could see the faces of Lily and Emily in his mind, but they were blurry, distant, like photographs fading in the rain. It was easier this way. He'd learned long ago how to be detached, how to keep himself composed, focused.
The silence was almost soothing, the coldness around him a comfortable, numbing blanket. It was just him, his books, and his unwavering determination to never feel again.
As the day passed in a haze of cold silence, Lily sat in the living room, staring at the spot where Liam used to sit. The couch beside her was empty, and she could feel the weight of the emptiness pressing in on her chest. It wasn't just the absence of Liam's presence—it was the sudden shift in their friendship, the way he'd pulled away so completely.
She had tried. She had reached out, tried to talk to him, but the walls he'd built around himself were too thick. And it hurt. She didn't understand why he was shutting her out, why he was pushing her away. She wanted to believe it wasn't because of her, but deep down, a quiet voice in her head told her it was.
"He's not the same anymore," she muttered to herself, pulling her knees to her chest. "I don't know what's happened to him."
She thought about their childhood, the way he used to always be there, the quiet support he gave her without ever asking for anything in return. That Liam was still somewhere inside, wasn't he? She clung to the hope that the old Liam would come back, but each passing day made that hope feel more and more like a distant memory.
Emily sat at the kitchen table, her eyes trained on her phone, waiting for Liam to reply to the message she had sent him earlier. It was a simple text, nothing too forward or intense. Just a check-in, a "How are you doing?" But there had been no response. Not that she'd expected one. Not really. But a part of her had hoped for some sign that maybe he still cared, that he hadn't completely shut her out.
Her mind drifted back to their last conversation—the confession she'd made, the vulnerability she'd shown. She couldn't stop wondering if that had been the wrong moment, the wrong time. Had she made him uncomfortable? Had he pushed her away because of what she'd said?
The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she couldn't ignore it. She tried to stay busy, tried to focus on anything else, but all her thoughts kept circling back to him.
"He's shutting us out," she whispered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. "I don't know why he's doing this. We were so close, weren't we?"
Avery watched the situation unfold with a quiet understanding. She saw how Liam had been retreating into himself, how he'd become colder and more distant. She saw how Emily and Lily were both struggling to make sense of his behavior, how they tried to reach him only to find him slipping further away. But Avery wasn't blind. She knew the weight of the pressure Liam was under, the expectations that were suffocating him, and the conflict within himself.
She wasn't sure how to help him, not without pushing him further away. But one thing she was certain of was that he needed time. Time to process, time to heal, and maybe time to accept that he couldn't keep carrying the weight of the world alone.
For now, Avery stayed in the background, offering quiet support to both Emily and Lily, knowing that it wasn't the time to force anything with Liam.
Liam's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He studied the pages in front of him, but the words blurred together. He had worked through the night, forcing himself to focus on his studies like he always had, ignoring the exhaustion creeping up on him. But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the emotions were there—lingering just beneath the surface. He had let them in once, and now they were like an infection he couldn't get rid of.
His hand trembled slightly as he turned the page, the faintest sign of weakness that he quickly masked. His body still hadn't fully recovered from his breakdown, but he refused to acknowledge it.
"Focus," he muttered under his breath. "You can't let them distract you."
But the more he tried to push them away, the more the emotions returned, pulling at the edges of his resolve. He couldn't let himself care. Not about them, not about anyone.
The phone buzzed on his desk—another message from Emily. He didn't even look at it. Instead, he focused on the page in front of him, his eyes blank, his mind completely shut off from everything else.
That night, as they all sat together in the living room, Lily finally broke the silence.
"I don't understand him anymore," she said, her voice trembling. "It's like he's become a completely different person. He's shutting me out, shutting all of us out, and I don't know what to do."
Emily's eyes softened with concern, but she didn't know what to say. She, too, had noticed the change in Liam, the way he had distanced himself from them. "I don't get it either. I thought he'd at least talk to me, after... you know."
Avery leaned forward, her hands clasped together. "He's dealing with a lot more than just you two. I think he's pushing everyone away to avoid confronting what's really going on inside. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care."
Lily sniffled. "It doesn't feel like he cares. He won't even look at me."
Avery nodded slowly. "It's going to take time. But if he doesn't want help right now, we have to respect that. Just be there when he's ready."
Lily wiped her eyes, feeling the weight of her emotions. "I miss him," she whispered. "I miss the old Liam."
Later that evening, after the others had gone to bed, Liam sat alone in his room. He stared at the desk before him, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't control. His hand reached over and grabbed the small framed photo of him and Lily from their childhood. The image of them together—a memory of simpler, happier times.
He stared at the photo for a long time, his chest tight. But then, with a sigh, he stood up, walked to his drawer, and opened it. His fingers trembled as he carefully placed the photo inside and locked it away, the cool metal clicking shut.
No more emotions. No more distractions.
He closed the drawer and stood there for a moment, his face impassive, his eyes cold. The warmth, the light—everything was gone. He had locked it away, and there was nothing left but the person he had always been: calm, calculated, and empty.
With that, he turned away from the drawer and sat back down at his desk, resuming his studies. He would not be distracted again. Not by them. Not by anything.
And for the first time in his life, he didn't feel a single thing.